


208 - American Sign Language

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, body pos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 19:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17392718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: A fic about: Being the girl with a good stash of tea. American Sign Language. And Van McCann.





	208 - American Sign Language

**Author's Note:**

> So, I still am in the process of copying these fics over from Tumblr. When I do that, any formatting goes. That means anything that should be in italics isn't. This fic is greatly effected by that. Sorry!

You jumped out of your skin when he tapped you on the shoulder. The reaction startled him and he flinched. He started to speak, but his hands crossed his face too much and his words weren’t fully enunciated. You couldn’t read it; all you could do was put your hand up in a motion to stop. He did and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. You pointed at your ears, then shook your head. The realisation splashed across his face and his cheeks went from a milky white to a rosy pink. His pretty freckles still stood out though. You were better than most at noticing small details like that. 

He started to speak again, but slower, and you were used to reading the words he formed. “I’m sorry.” You nodded. After pulling your phone from your bag, you opened a new note and typed All good. Did you need something?

Handing it over, the boy read and grinned. He said, “Good idea,” but started to type it out anyway. Good idea, sorry

He held it up and you nodded. Some1 says girl in stripe shirt knows where good tea is ????

Handing the phone back to you, you laughed. You were definitely the girl in the striped shirt with the stash of good tea. You nodded at him. It was clear he had a lot of questions, top of the list probably was 'why is a girl that cannot hear backstage at a music festival?' but he'd have to keep those to himself. 

You motioned for him to follow you, and he walked by your side for only a few steps before moving to walk backwards in front of you. His body language told you he was someone that wasn't used to silence. His bouncing steps and fidgeting hands were dead giveaways. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette that he'd rolled himself or someone had for him. He lit it, but then did a weird little pause, then offered it to you. You grinned but shook your head. He went to say something, then stopped himself.

You had learnt the difference between someone stopping because they remembered you couldn't hear, and someone stopping because what they were about to say wasn't the right thing, for whatever reason. Phone out, you typed What? and handed it over. He smiled and it was part embarrassment and part mischief. 

Don’t want to offend ya

Try me.

He looked at you, eyes narrowed, searching for the same mischief in you. He found it and nodded. Was gonna say something dumb

Unsurprising. What was it?

When he read your message he laughed, his head going back. You liked his vampire teeth and dimples. Gonna say that you probably value health more coz of the deaf thing

When you read it, you tried to not laugh or judge him, but it was hard to not do either. What a beautiful idiot. Where could you even start with that? He took the phone off you before you could write anything. You were almost at your sister's band's bus. See! Told u!!!!!1!!

Phone back in your pocket, you looked at him and scrunched your nose up. He said that he was sorry again, and you could tell that he was.

In the bus, your sister Ruby was sitting at the table with her drummer. She signed an inquiry about the boy following you. You replied that he was after tea, and then told her what he'd said.

"Did you really assume she'd not smoke because she's deaf? Like, one ‘impairment’ per person type of rule?" she asked him before introducing herself or saying hi.

"I didn't mean… I stopped. I didn't say it 'cause I realised how fuckin' dumb it was. Tell her I'm sorry," he said to Ruby. Your back was to them because you were busy putting a selection of tea into a plastic sandwich bag for him.

"She said you already said sorry. I'm not her translator, mate. Who are you anyway?"

"Van… I'm-"

"Oh, Van McCann. Yeah, I know your band. I'm Ruby, this is Max. That's Y/N. And she really needs to stop giving all our fucking tea away."

Ruby reached across the small space to lightly kick you. You turned around and glared. Van watched your interaction with your sister. He was pretty sure you were talking about him, and he was half right.

Turning to him, you handed over the tea.

"Thank you!" he said. You nodded. "How do I say thank you like, with my hands?" You were caught off guard by the question. "Am I allowed to know that? Or is it a secret thing?" he asked. You didn't even need to see or hear Ruby to know she'd probably laughed at him. You grinned and shook your head. You showed him and helped move his fingers to where they needed to be to make the symbols. When he had it, he handed the tea back and told you to do it again. You rolled your eyes, handed him the tea and watched him say thank you in your language.

You didn't want it to feel like anything, but it felt like everything. He left the bus with a hug and a smile.

Sitting down next to Ruby, she was holding in a grin. You scribbled Fuck off on the notepad sitting out on the table for moments like that.

…

Only visiting for a couple of nights, it was the first and last time you spoke to Van. When you got home, you Googled his band and got just a little bit obsessed before returning to work and your life. He was pretty and the lyrics he wrote made you laugh. They read almost like poetry, but like lines written by a drunk Welshmen. Kind of charming, kind of stupid. Ruby told you his music was good; you'd have to trust her on that. Their videos were simple, but you liked the way Van moved. Your favourite was the clip for 7 because it showed little glimpses of his personality, and that of his band's. But, like all crushes on boys in bands, it faded when real life caught up.

A month and a bit after your little holiday, you had the weekend off work. A rainy Saturday wouldn't deter you from spending money though. In the city, you spent an hour on the floor of the bookstore, then another twenty minutes picking bath bombs. By the time lunch rolled around, you decided to kill two birds with one stone. You were reading your way across the giant wall of tea at T-bar when you spotted him.

Van was searching for something, his bottom lip between his teeth and a look of pure concentration on his face. It was weird seeing him outside of the context of your memories and your laptop screen. You were still staring when he glanced over. His expression changed instantly to pure fucking sunshine and he waltzed over. You smiled, but before you could greet him he held a finger up, telling you to wait.

Van bounced on the spot and shook his hands out. "Okay," he said to himself, then looked up at you. In ASL (probably the easiest to find tutorials of online) he signed 'Hello! How are you?'

You grinned and had to hold your hands over your mouth to contain a giggle. Van beamed.

"Yeah? I got it right?" he asked out loud. You nodded. "You can read lips, right?" You nodded again. "I don't know much more than that," he said. You got your phone out and wrote That was kinda amazing. Thank you!! And hi! I'm good. How are you? Shopping for the good stuff?? 

Van read and laughed, nodding and looking around. He looked at you. "The tea you gave me? One of those was really good. Since I've been home I come and get it all the time," he told you, pausing for confirmation that you knew what he'd said. Given a nod, he continued. "They move it every time but."

You'd given him a few different teas, but there was one that people always lost their fucking bananas over. You'd already put a box of it in your basket. Stepping closer to the wall, Van followed and smiled as you pulled it off the shelf for him. He signed a thank you and your heart skipped a beat.

I was gonna sit and have something to eat. You busy? Van read and shook his head, and motioned for you to follow him to a table.

You knew what you wanted, but pretended to read the menu to give him time to pick. Van's eyes flicked up to you. He would probably read it out loud usually; probably talk through everything. He couldn't with you though. Did the silence make him uncomfortable? He'd probably not bothered to have tried to learn sign language if so.

When you put the menu down and looked at Van, he signed the number for seven properly. He didn't hold up seven fingers, but had learned to count in the language. You grinned again. Item seven on the menu was basic eggs and bacon on toast. A waiter came to the table and poured water. You signed thank you. It was better to establish early on in communication processes that you wouldn't hear their words. Van spoke to him, ordered, then turned and asked you what you wanted. You signed eight, and he read the menu and ordered the smashed avocado you wanted.

The waiter left and you were alone at the small table with Van. The movement around you was acute, and the colours and the smells told you about your environment. Pulling a notebook from your bag, you asked him how long it took to learn. He laughed and started to sign. It took you a couple of seconds to realise he was spelling out entire words letter by letter, rather than word by word. You held in a laugh and let him finish the sentence. He misspelt three of the words, but you knew what he meant.

On the page, you asked if he knew there were symbols for whole words.

"Rude! Yes! I just didn’t know which I'd need… So I figured the alphabet would let me say anythin' you know? I can say basic phrases. I did the ones I learn when we go somewhere new. Sign language has been easier than Japanese."

You wrote You know Japanese?

"Oh, God no. I know basics. I try to learn please and thank you and how are you in whatever language goes with the place we’re touring. Figure it's the least I can do when everyone is so nice and stuff, you know what I mean?"

You nodded. His kindness went beyond basic human politeness. Want me to teach you anything else?

"Ahh… How about, do you want to go on a date with me?"

The waiter appeared and said something to Van, to which he laughed. You'd not looked up in time to read it. When he left, you wrote What happened?

Van smirked, the apples of his cheeks tinged just a little bit pink. "He said that was smooth, what I said."

You signed yes, I'll go on a date with you. Van's face dropped to confusion. Saying it again in written form, he smiled wide.

The food was good, and Van ordered tea when the waiter came past. At first, Van tried to use his knife and fork to cut his meal into bite-sized pieces. You let him suffer for a couple of minutes before telling him to just use his hands. He laughed, and happily picked up pieces of bacon and dropped them into his mouth with a little wiggle of the hips.

Over Van's shoulder, you watched people walk by the café. A young guy walked past, glanced in, stopped abruptly and came through the café. He stood at the table and Van looked up and smiled. They started to speak to each other fast, and you couldn't keep up.

Van turned to you. "Y/N, this is Larry. He's my best mate and our guitar tech," he introduced. You signed hello and that it was nice to meet him. Then, as angels sang and kittens rolled on fresh grass with balls of yellow and pink yarn, Larry signed it back.

"Besides Benji, he's our bass player, Larry is the best. He learnt it real quick. I was third, then Bob, then Bondy. We did it on the bus a lot after I met you, see. But only me and Larry practice still," Van explained. He told Larry to pull up a seat.

All in (slow, considered and slightly malformed) sign, Larry said that Van demanded everyone learn at least the basic phrases. He said that Van hadn't stopped talking about you since getting home, and had been on a mission to find your number, but musicians were notoriously bad at replying to text messages.

"What'd he say?" Van asked you. You shrugged, playing dumb. Larry grinned. Van narrowed his eyes and looked from you to Larry and back again. He sipped his tea and pretended to not be a little in love with the moment.

"Bit poetic this, innit?" Larry said, but you didn't understand the last word. "Findin' her in the tea store,"

"Yeah. I'll write a song 'bout it," Van replied.

You shook your head, smiled to yourself and went back to your tea.


End file.
